Unwind
by eros-is-sleepy
Summary: Wherein the Broflovskis just moved into South Park and Kyle is the new kid in town. Slow Burn Style.
1. Chapter 1

_Calm down, Kyle. I'm sure the kids here are nice, you'll make new friends in no time_. I try to convince myself as I wipe the nonexistent dust off my jacket and pants. I don't know why my heart is beating like, a thousand miles per second. I should be used to being the new kid.

Yep. I've been to three schools by now, South Park Elementary would be the fourth. My family has been on the move ever since we left New Jersey years ago. Why? I'm not entirely sure, but mom told me she wanted Ike and I to grow up in a more peaceful environment. Yeah right, we've been prancing state by state, exposing me to all sorts of situations — which were mostly bad. So, not exactly _peaceful_ , eh?

Anyway, I sure do hope Colorado would be enough to sate my mom's quest for _peace_. Though we only arrived here last Saturday, I like how quiet it's been here in South Park. Our neighbors were pretty nice, too! I'm already friends with their kid, or at least one of them, I couldn't really engage in conversation with their daughter. She was kind of scary.

Huh, now I wonder if the boy's gonna be my classmate. I _did_ hear he was in 4th grade. A bit stupid how I didn't catch his name.

My train of thought is cut off by a command from inside the room, which I assume is from my soon-to-be teacher, "Alright, alright, settle down, kids!" He sounds tired, like he's been barking the same words every morning. He probably does, we're fourth graders after all, naturally loud and annoying to the grown-ups.

Or so they say. I don't really care anyway.

"Class, we have a new student today." With that statement, I breathe into my palm and check if my breath smells good. Oh why did I do that? It's not like they'll be _that_ close to smell my breath. "I trust all of you to be in your best behaviors."

 _Yes. For my sake, too, please_.

"Put your hand down, Eric. And _no_ , taking a crap on the empty desk isn't exactly best behavior. Even for you."

I almost gag. What kind of fourth grader would go as far as to shit on someone else's desk? The kid must be a whole kind on his own, the I'm-extremely-insecure-so-I-have-to-be-extremely-insufferable-in-order-for-me-to-be-given-extreme-attention kind. Ugh, wouldn't wanna be friends with that dude.

"Kyle?"

Is it just me or have people been interrupting my thoughts a bit more lately?

"Kyle? Kyle Broflovski?"

 _See?!_

Wait...

Oh gods, I've been so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even notice that it was time for my introduction.

So much for making new friends, they must all think I'm lame now.

As if affirming my thoughts, I hear a snicker from one of the students, "Nerd."

Fucker.

The whole class erupts with laughter and I stomp to the center of the room, making it clear that I wasn't happy with the insult. From the corner of my eye, I could see the teacher shake his head at the class. Hah, so much for expecting best behavior.

My classmates are silent now, all eyes and ears are focused on me, aching to find out what my first words to the class would be.

"I'm Kyle Broflovski," I start with a slightly icy tone that transitions to straight-up cold in my next statement, "and I am _not_ a damn nerd."

The corners of my mouth twitch upward, feeling a bit smug from the look on their faces. _Didn't expect something like that from the new kid, huh?_

Well, that is until some fat kid yells, "Nerd!" Now the class is back to laughing again. What a bastard.

I clench my fists, trying to bite back a snide remark. I fail anyway as I shoot him the darkest glare I could manage. "At least _I_ carry books, instead of the enormous amount of fat _you_ seem to haul around!"

Everyone shuts up, except for the fatso, "Ay! I'm not fat, I'm big-boned!"

"Yeah, and you're not stupid, just missing a brain."

He's incredibly red now, the crimson shade of humiliation is clear on his face and I sorta feel bad for him — looking like an overfed clownfish with his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing. How pathetic, he can't even think of a comeback.

I hear the teacher agree, "Well, Eric _is_ brainless." The students reply to him with laughter, and this Eric kid starts muttering a string of profanities under his breath.

I laugh a sarcastic laugh as I walk up to the empty desk in front, my squinted eyes not leaving the fat kid. That is until the person beside me gives me a little nudge. I harden my glare at Eric one last time before turning to look at my seatmate.

It's him!

The world around me brightens at the familiar face. " _Marsh!_ " I say a little bit too loud, as Mr. Garrison (as it was written on the board) and a few other heads whip around to look at us.

"Already making friends, huh, Kyle?" The teacher comments, "Just keep your voice down." It's painfully clear how tired he is, so I give him an apologetic look and shrug. Mr. Garrison turns back to the board and continues talking about various TV shows that I honestly don't give a crap about. Why would we even need that information?

I turn to Marsh, he's scratching his head and avoiding my eyes. "Please don't call me Marsh," he requests, "My name is Stan, Stanley Marsh." Now he meets my gaze, his hand extended towards me. "It's nice to see you here, Kyle."

My own chuckle reaches my ears, "Alright, _Stan_ , I'm sorry I forgot to get your name yesterday." I take his hand. "It's nice to see you here, too."

The second we pull back, Stan praises me for putting Eric in his place, "Most have the guts to do so, dude, yet few have the patience and tolerance to get through it." He leans closer and motions for me to come forward, I do so and he whispers to my ears, "Cartman usually gives out after a retaliation or two, though. He's a high damage, low health kind of monster."

Stan's analogy is amusing yet I find myself agreeing to it, even if I didn't know Eric — uhh, Cartman, that well.

"So you wanna hang out with us later during recess?" I cock an eyebrow at the word _us_.

It better not be Cartman.

"Ah, I meant Kenny and I."

Good.

Stan points at the guy to my right and Kenny gives me a wave and a parka-muffled greeting. Not sure how I understood his words, I just did. "So you wanna hang out with us?" Stan repeats his offer.

Whoa.

This is great.

It's only first period yet I'm already making both enemies and friends! This tingling feeling inside me is the proof of my excitement towards the school year. South Park Elementary, you better not let me down.

I smile at Stan.

"Hell yeah, dude."

This is going to be one heck of a ride.

* * *

Recess time and, as promised, I'm spending it with my new friends, Stan and — wait, where's Kenny?

My eyes scan the playground in search of an orange hood. It wasn't too long till I found him, thanks to his parka making him stand out from the crowd, leaning against the school and talking to at least five girls. What a chick magnet.

"Don't worry, dude, Kenny's like that every day." I blink at Stan. _How did he...?_ "Let's just continue playing."

And so we play, though the only thing we do is pass the ball to each other. Not really that thrilling of a game, considering how it hasn't been thrown past the school fence yet.

"Hey guys!"

I flinch at the voice. My hands catch the ball Stan threw towards me and I send it straight to the monster approaching us. "Go away, Cartman."

It hits him hard in the stomach.

"Nice one, dude!" Stan raises his hand for a high five. I jog the distance between us to give him the crispiest high five I got. By crispiest, the sound it made when our palms collided rang in our ears. A smile makes its way to my features and Stan mimics the expression.

Dude, I can already tell we're gonna be great friends.

"That hurt, you fucking bitch!"

Ah, I forgot about him.

"So we're allowed to cuss here, huh, fat boy?" My arms are crossed tightly in front of my chest. From beside me, I can feel Stan do the same.

"What?" Cartman gapes, eyes mocking me. "You're still scared of being caught cussing? I didn't expect you to be such a pussy, _Kahl_." He throws the ball he was hiding behind his large figure.

As expected, I catch it. "I'm not a pussy, Cartman." I pass the ball to Stan, who waves Kenny over. There is a bit of fear in Cartman's eyes as I make my way to him. My feet stop a few inches from his spot, and he is looking everywhere but my way. " _I_ _am not a fucking pussy._ " At each word, I drill my finger to his chest, making sure he knew I wasn't screwing around.

I am not going to be pushed around here. Not now, not ever.

Cartman is laughing, but his eyes betray him by showing raw fear. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh on—"Yeah? Well, I bet your mom is a bitch."—him.

Oh, it's on, fat boy.

My hands are itching to strangle the fatass to death, but I don't wanna be sent to the Principal's Office on my first day. Maybe another time, then. Instead, I grab his collar and pull his face close to mine, our noses almost touching. I could hear Kenny make a raunchy comment about my sexuality, but I ignore it, I have _literally_ bigger things to deal with right now.

"Don't throw my mom into this, fatass." And I push him to the ground. "The Broflovski family is out of bounds, you fucking hear me?"

Cartman pulls himself up with difficulty and scampers away. "Fuck you, Kyle!" With that and a middle finger, he's out of sight.

I didn't notice the small crowd until the murmurs reach my ears.

"Wow, never knew Cartman was such a loser."

"The new kid's pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, and he's got a hot ass!"

 _Someone was staring at my ass? What the fuck..._

I turn to face my two new friends. Stan is looking at me with a pair of worried eyes. "Dude, you okay?" I give him a reassuring smile and his tense posture loosens up. "You sure showed Cartman not to fuck with you."

"Yeah, but for a second there I thought _you_ were gonna fuck _him_ right in front of everybody!" Kenny blurts out, his eyes curved into happy crescents.

Stan punches him in the shoulder. "That's nasty, man. Kyle would never do that." And he feigns throwing up.

The three of us break into laughter, Kenny falling onto the ground and Stan chuckling into his palm.

"T-thats... the only thing nastier... than Cartman!" I add between my snorts. The boy has been a menace ever since I set foot in our classroom! Calling the new student a nerd? Asking if it's acceptable to crap on a desk? He must really need attention.

Man, I don't know how Stan and Kenny lasted this long with Cartman as their classmate.

"Oh boy, and you haven't even witnessed his farts!" Kenny roars, "They're explosive!"

"Fuck that, dude!" Stan hollers, "His farts could wipe out an entire fucking continent!"

Our laughter only gets louder by the second, until the school bell rings. We don't actually head to our room immediately, but once we did, Mr. Garrison made sure to give me — the new kid! — an earful for being late.

And Cartman? I'm told he went crying for his mama. Hah! If anything, he's the pussy _and_ the nerd!

* * *

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Stan."

"You too, Kyle." Stan shoots me one last look and wave before entering his house. I let my eyes linger on their front door for a few more seconds before I enter my own.

As soon as I go through the door, the aroma of my mom's cooking fills my nostrils and I hear a welcome home from my dad. I give him a polite smile before heading upstairs to my room. My parents always told me to finish my homework before doing anything else, and being the obedient child I am, I do exactly what they tell me to do.

I finish the Math problem set in a matter of minutes. Thank goodness Mr. Garrison gave us a light workload today, meaning I had the time to go online on Facebook. I was just about to type 'Stan Marsh' into the search bar, when a notification appears:

 _Stan Marsh has added you as a friend. Confirm Stan as your friend?_

I am delightfully surprised, clicking the 'Confirm' button right away. A notification comes up yet again:

 _Kenny McCormick has added you as a friend. Confirm Kenny as your friend?_

Wait, Kenny has a computer at home? I remember him telling me how his family barely had enough money to support his schooling, but I guess they have enough for a computer?

I avoid thinking about it too much and hit 'Confirm'. The next ten notifications or so are from kids I don't know, but I recognize their faces so I accept them as Facebook friends anyway. The last notification was probably the most surprising (not to mention, disturbing!) of them all.

 _Eric Cartman has added you as a friend. Confirm Eric as your friend?_

Is this for real? I shake my head as I press 'Ignore.' The motherfucker was not, is not, and will never be my friend.

Finally, the wave of notifications stop and I lean back my chair, contemplating on surfing the Internet or going downstairs to tell my parents all about my first day of fourth grade. However, another notification from Facebook appears.

It's a message from Stan. _sup dude?_

 _Nothing much. Just finished my homework, you?_ I reply.

 _took sparky out for a walk_

We talk about lots of things and lots of people, like we've been friends reunited. He asks me how I thought of South Park so far, and I answer him honestly: _It's been the best! Thanks to you and Kenny, of course. :)_ He replies with a lot of exclamation points and smiley faces expressing his satisfaction.

Our chat continues for at least an hour before mom calls me for dinner.

 _Brb dude, gotta eat._

 _same ttyl_

I sign out of my account and pull the plug, I hear my dad's voice inside my head. _Kyle, you should wait for the computer to completely shutdown before pulling the plug or else it'll damage it._ With the plug in my hand, I give flashback dad a quick apology.

"Bubbeh, come down while the food is still hot!" My mom yells and I drop the cord, already out of my room in record time.

"I'm coming!"

* * *

 _dude_

 _Yeah?_

 _u know wendy?_

Wendy? The name sounds familiar, but I can't put a face to it. _No, sorry._

 _then why are u friends with her?_

Huh? I go to my profile and check my friends list. I scroll down a few times before my eyes catch the name. _Wendy Testaburger?_

 _thats her_

 _So?_ I ask, not knowing why Stan even cares about my relationship with this Wendy girl. I don't even know her.

 _nothing_ He replies a bit too quickly.

Then it clicks.

 _You like her, don't you?_ Good thing Stan can't see me, because I'm sure my face is morphed into a teasing expression right now.

 _ew no man why would u even think so_ The vibe I get from the message is defensive and I have to hold back a chuckle. I can almost feel his blush from here!

 _Chill out, Stan. There's nothing wrong with having a crush on someone._

 _but i dont have a crush on her?_ Oh, Stanley, you are an awful liar even through the Internet.

 _If you say so! ;)_ I hit enter, but it doesn't send. I hit the button again with a bit more force this time, thinking it will do the job but the message still doesn't go through. I repeat the same process, me getting more and more frustrated after each attempt. The poor enter button is sunken when I finally realize that it's past 10 in the evening.

I mash my head on the keyboard. _Kyle, you idiot._ I was so carried away by my conversation with Stan that I forgot that my mom turns the Internet off at exactly 10 every night, in order for me to not develop computer dependency. It's not my fault I thought it was 8 or something!

A sigh escapes my lips as I tuck myself into bed. I didn't even get the chance to say good night to Stan.

I close my eyes, trying to fall asleep. Yet I lay awake that night, mind full of thoughts and expectations on how awesome the school year was going to be. Now that I did make nice friends, it may actually be enjoyable!

Wow, that came out depressing. Way to go, Kyle!

* * *

 **A/N:** Hey guys, I'm still alive! But now my newest addiction is South Park and I've been binge watching it since August~

If anyone wants to adopt my two fics: To Heal Her and The Four Dragon Knights, then just leave a review _or_ hit me up! I don't know how, but just contact me hehe. I'm sorry but I really forgot what my plan was for those two stories, so I'm giving it up. :(

Oh, and leave a review! Let me know what your thoughts are for my first SP fanfic (constructive criticism is _highly_ appreciated!). Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

This morning I wake up with a slight headache thanks to the sun penetrating my eyes. Apparently, I've been forgetting a lot of things nowadays, closing the curtains before bed now one of them. "Ugh, what time is it?" I ask to no one as I grope my nightstand for the digital alarm clock, face still buried among the white pillows. My hand lands on what seems to be it and I lift my head to read the time.

6:04 AM

Really? I groan and push myself off the bed. I have almost two hours to get ready for school, better work on it now so my mom doesn't blow a fuse later.

After I get ready to face the day, I enter the dining room. "Good morning, my bubbeleh," Mom greets me, waving the spatula in her hand. She seems to be whipping up some pancakes, so I head to the fridge and grab the milk carton. "You had a nice sleep?"

Since mom already set the table, the only thing I have to do is pour milk into my cup and wait for breakfast. I take a seat before answering, "I was, until I had to wake up." It came out as a grumble and dad shoots me a pointed look. A shrug is the only reply he gets. Sorry, dad, but your eldest son still doesn't like the concept of mornings.

"Oh, bubbeh, you need to get used to waking up early." There's a lighthearted lilt in her voice, and I had to do a retake, not believing I heard her right.

" _Wait, what?_ " My dad shoots yet another pointed look at my direction for my annoyed tone. I know I'm pushing my luck and I brace myself for a scolding.

But it never comes. "I said you need to get used to waking up early, bubbeh," she repeats herself, the strict voice I'm used to hearing is nowhere to be found.

This is weird. Why is mom in such a good mood? Don't tell me they finally found a way to get rid of me without looking suspicious... _no way_... I haven't been that bad of a child!

"Sharon and Randy came over last night," Dad says, now back to reading the daily paper.

I'm about to ask who, but then I remember. "Stan's parents?"

"Correct." He flips a page and I see his eyes skimming through the articles. "They told us how you were becoming great friends with their kid. Good job, Kyle." Looking up, he gives me a proud smile and I am taken aback. Where'd all the pointed looks go?

Oh...

 _Oh?!_

All these good vibes just because I'm friends with the kid next door? This is so sweet! Now I wish Kenny's parents would come over soon. Hell, I'll befriend every kid in South Park if this is the reward!

I do a happy little jig on the inside as Ike stumbles into the room. Rubbing his eyes, he greets us, "Good morning."

His timing is just right, as mom finishes with the pancakes and we all greet him back in chorus, "Good morning, Ike."

* * *

"Dude, wait up!"

I hear quick steps coming from behind me, and a figure crashes into me as I turn around. Thankfully, I don't fall to the ground. " _Ow!_ " I rub my forehead, a scowl forming on my lips till I see who it is. "Watch where you're going, Stan."

With his forehead as red as mine, Stan merely sticks his tongue at me. "That's what you get for not waiting for me."

I stare at him like he was crazy. "Well you didn't tell me to wait for you!" It's true, how was I supposed to know that? I'm not a mind reader!

"Huh? I thought it was an unspoken rule..." Stan says so softly that I almost don't hear it. He's frowning now, avoiding my eyes yet again.

"Really?" I ask with wide eyes and he nods furiously. "Oh, never knew that. I'm still new to this whole friendship thing, you know? You're like, my first friend — I'll try to get better." That's true, too. All my classmates in the past three years thought it was easier to poke fun at the new kid than befriend him. Whatever floats their boat, I guess. Bunch of fucking idiots.

Now Stan looks completely sad. Was it something I said? I raise a brow at him, waiting for him to talk, but when he doesn't, I continue the walk to school. I can faintly hear his footsteps as he is trailing a few feet behind me. We stay that way, awkward and distant, until we reach the school's front doors.

I jolt when he whacks me square in the back. "Oops!" Stan gasps, his hand now rubbing my back. "My bad! Didn't mean to hit you that hard, I swear."

What the hell is wrong with Stan today?

"Uh...?"

The expression on my face must've told him exactly that, as he drops his hands into his jacket's pockets and starts to explain himself, "I'm sorry, Kyle. I thought you already knew that, with us being friends and basically living next to each other, that we would start walking to school together and go back home together," he says his next words in a rush, "The fuckers who didn't wanna be your friends before were just plain stupid. I promise I'm going to be the bestest friend you'll ever have. I won't do stupid shit again — _although I probably still will._ But I won't do it on purpose now! _Okay, maybe I still will._ But, dude, I swear that I really will be your greatest friend ever! Your first and last, I'll be here till the end of time! Mark my words."

He's panting when he stops his speedy speech and I can't help but laugh at him, thinking he's playing some prank on me.

Nobody ever wants to be my friend.

"Hey!" Stan punches me on the shoulder. "I don't say dramatic shit like that to just anyone!" His red ears tell me he speaks the truth and my laughter dies down.

"Then why say it to me?"

Stan blushes even more, clearly not used to doing 'girly' stuff like that. "I-I don't know! I just, you know," he stammers, "feel like we're going to be great friends."

My heart clenches at that, and tears start to pool at the corners of my eyes — fuck, I am so touched right now. I jerk my head to the side before he even has the chance to get a good look at me. "Yeah?"

From my peripheral vision, I could see him nodding furiously yet again. "Yeah, dude, no kidding."

The wide, genuine smile on his face is contagious and I find myself copying it.

"Well, me too."

But this is nice though, to know that someone willingly wants to be my friend. Wait, no, Stan even said he wanted to be my bestest friend! AH! It's the first time I've felt this way and — oh my god, _dude_ , this is so fucking gay!

* * *

The rest of the morning passes by, busy and quite stressful for us fourth graders. Compared to yesterday, the workload was definitely heavier — to us fourth graders, _may I emphasize again_. I had to wake Stan and Kenny up from their naps because Mr. Garrison had a reminder every damn second. My daily planner's section for Tuesday was already full by third period, so I might just have to invade Wednesday's space if I wanted to keep tabs on our schoolwork till the day was over. Yes, _our_ schoolwork, who knew Stanley could be so reckless?

Even so, to say I was relieved when the lunch bell rang would be an understatement.

"Thank God that's over!" I hunch over my locker, which was conveniently placed next to Stanley's. I peer at him and find him stifling a laugh. "What's so funny, Stan?"

He purses his lips to mask his amusement. "Nothing, Kyle." Now it's my turn to punch him on the shoulder.

"Honestly though, I don't know how you managed to sleep through all that work!"

Stan gives me a lopsided grin. "Relax, dude, we're still in elementary school. You're acting as if we're college already!"

Surprisingly, his words do the job and I release another sigh, "You're right. Come on, the line to the cafeteria must be dreadfully long now."

I was right, of course. Once we got there, Stan and I spot Kenny sitting with Cartman, and the blonde earns a glare from me. He shrugs back at us with a tired look, as if to say, _I tried, guys, I really did_.

I turn back to Stan. "Poor Kenny, having to sit with that jerk must be a pain in the ass."

"Take it from me: it really is." Stan cringes, the horror in his eyes is amusing to me. Fuck, I must sound like a sadist or something, which I am not... I think?

I don't know how much time has passed since I started arguing with myself over trivial matters — Am I a sadist? Am I a masochist? Am I neither or both? — but it was long enough, because now I find myself following Stan. We're heading towards the table where Kenny and Cartman, the human piggy, are.

"What's the matter, _Kahl?_ " Cartman sneers at me. "You look like you got your panties in a twist."

"Go fuck yourself," I say, too occupied in my internal debate to come up with a more articulate comeback.

The lump of fat they call Eric Cartman was now cackling, "Hah! It's only day two and you're already out of ammo! You were only tough yesterday, you wimpy piece of—"

"Leave him alone, Cartman," Stan interrupts from beside me. I send him a grateful smile before going back to finish my Salisbury steak.

Cartman looks like he's choking. About fucking time! Oh wait, I think he's actually faking a gag. "Aw, you're his little boyfriend, Stan? How cute! But I thought you already had a bird on your arm, or did I get bad intel?"

Stan has a girlfriend? I look up from my meal, eyes already questioning the said boy. However, as if on cue, a group of girls saunter towards our table. "Hi, Stan!"

Wait, I recognize her.

"Speak of the devil," Cartman snickers, mouth full of steak.

I haven't seen Stan this red before. "Hey, Wends—" Ew. He's barfed all over the girls, who were now running away, and our lunch table. I grab my lunch tray and scoot away from all the vomit, the other guys do so, too.

"Dude, what was that?" I ask him, mouth agape. That shit was terrifying and disgusting, and it _stinks_! God, it still smells if I cover my nose!

Stan just cradles his head in his hands, sighing. I didn't notice that Kenny and Cartman moved to the next table till the former called me over, "You gonna eat in all that nasty Salisbury barf or you gonna get your ass moving?"

I raise my other hand, signaling them to wait and Kenny rolls his eyes. "Hey, Stan, what's up?" My words come out a bit weird, considering my nose is blocked.

"I'm perfectly fine, okay? I'll just go." I stare pathetically at him when he gets up and out the cafeteria. It's glaringly obvious he isn't fine, yet I'm unable to do anything but sit here with my unfinished food.

And I call myself his friend...

"Get a move on, _Kahl_."

Somehow, hearing Cartman's voice makes my blood boil and I swat his grubby hand off my shoulder. "Don't you dare touch me," I spat at him, seething.

"The hell?" Cartman holds his own hand, probably the one I slapped, brows knit together in confusion. "I'm sorry your little Stanley is into chicks, but don't throw me into this!"

"What are you—," I stop, realizing what Cartman means. My temper is flaring now, he thinks I care about that?! "Look, you not-so-little shit, I _don't_ give a flying fuck about what Stan is into!" I push myself off the bench to run after my friend. Also, I needed to get away from Cartman before I got my hands around his wide neck. I know full well that I would squeeze the living daylights out of him and enjoy every second.

Nope, I am not a sadist. _Not at all._

Once out of the cafeteria, I look around, searching for a boy in a red poofball hat. I call his name, but only silence follows. Where could he be? I run back to our lockers and there's no sign of him there. "Stan?"

A familiar sound reaches my ears. It's someone pounding on a door, maybe a locker's…?

 _Shit._

My blood runs cold as memories of days gone by flash before my eyes. My feet are already running to the direction of the sound. I turn a corner and see a locker rattling. I'm right yet again. "Stan," I begin, my voice drenched with concern, " _Stan, are you in there?_ "

Tremors run through my body as I press my ear on the cold metal. I hear someone gasping for breath and, without thinking, I slam myself against the door. As expected, it doesn't do the job, so I do it again, and again, and again, clenching my jaw when it begins to hurt.

It still won't fucking budge!

My sides are _screaming_ in pain and I bet my skin is starting to bruise. Nevermind that! Stan is locked inside a locker and I know how that fucking feels! Bullied relentlessly through grades two and three, my immediate past was filled with swirlies, wedgies, pantsings, and all sorts of verbal abuse. If a day passed without me being trapped inside my locker, then damn was I lucky!

Fuck, I can't let Stan go through that. I won't be able to forgive myself, fuck! With my eyes shut tight, I lunge towards the locker. "Kyle, what are you doing?!" A push and I feel myself hit concrete instead of metal.

What the fuck just happened? Was that… "Stan?"

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

Again: _fuck_.

"So you aren't inside, uh…" I point to the locker, which, it just occurred to me, very much still contained a live person. " _Holy shit_ , quick, call a teacher!"

* * *

Turns out it was Butters Stotch, one of my classmates.

He's crying his eyes out when we bust open the door and my heart just sinks. " _T-the new kid!_ " Butters moans, wrapping his arms tight around me. Surprisingly, my body relaxes and I rub his back. His tears and snot get all over my jacket, but I'm not mad at it.

If possible, I even tighten the hug. "There, there, you're okay now," I whisper into his ear and my hand moves to pat his head.

"Thank you," he hiccups, "so much." It takes him a few minutes to settle down and Mr. Mackey, our school counselor, escorts him to his office. It was evident in Butters' eyes that he didn't want to go, but we both couldn't do anything once Mr. Mackey made the decision.

When the two were out of sight, I turn around to face Stan Marsh and his crossed arms. "What was that?" He inquires, one brow raised.

This is too embarrassing. He's gonna find out how much of a worrywart I am.

"Uh... obviously a boy stuck inside a locker?" Why did I say that? Oh my god, his face. I am done for!

"Kyle..." Stan sighs, putting his hands on my shoulders, "I know you thought it was me."

 _Ohhhhh._

"I appreciate the concern, really." He looks into my eyes and I can't keep the eye contact. "But you didn't have to do that, not for me, not for anyone. You shouldn't put yourself at risk, dude. I bet _this_ hurts." I flinch when he lays a hand on my side.

Concern warps his features and I have to sniffle a sob, "I... I'm sorry, Stan."

Stan carefully envelops me in an embrace, like he was afraid I would break if he held me too tight. I hate it. I'm _not_ fragile, I can handle myself just fine, but, right now, I can't find the strength to tear myself away from him. His cold hands find their way on my cheeks and I shudder as he slowly lifts my head to make me look at him. "Kyle, you don't have to be strong all the time."

Hearing those words, I break down, right there, in Stanley Marsh's arms.

I didn't have to be strong now.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hellooooo~_ It's exams week, _but_ today's class was suspended aND I AM SO HAPPY. But do you guys think this was too angsty (idk?) for 4th graders? I mean, in my opinion, Stan is the most compassionate among the four main boys AND he has a soft spot for Kyle. I honestly think that they're connected or some shit like that, so he'll always be connected to his best friend, the constant in all the alternate realities. HAHAHA Anyway, THH and T4DK are still up for fanfic adoption!

Let me know what you think about this chapter (to be honest, _I_ think it was bad)! Constructive criticism is _highly_ appreciated! Thank you so much for reading. :)


	3. Chapter 3

"You sure you don't want me to stay here?" Stan asks and I nod. I've already bothered him enough today, and I don't think he wants to be stuck in the Nurse's Office with me as company. "Are you _sure_ sure?"

"Yes, Stan, I'm _sure_ sure." I roll my eyes at him, knowing he just wants an excuse to miss class.

"Then I'll try to stay awake in class for you! Get well soon, dude." He grins at me before hurrying outside. He's, what, ten minutes late already? Well, not like that matters to Mr. Garrison, he'll let anyone in class as long as he gets to teach.

Anyway, now I'm alone, with my pretty little red bruises. So much for freaking out and slamming myself into a locker repeatedly, right? At least I made a kid happy. That's all that matters.

Still, I can't forget how Butters shook in my arms as I held him. I felt as if I was holding myself, my true self — the one that hid behind an explosive temper and a colorful vocabulary. I know, deep down, that he's there even though I'm gaining confidence through my friends. He'll always be here, inside me, to keep on reminding me of my past. Kyle _Barflovski_ will never let me rest. Every time I close my eyes, I am reeled into the horror of yesterday. Okay, that's a bit exaggerated, but I do get reminded of it every now and then.

Hey, it's not my fault I had the jitters! And, uh, decided to show the entire student body what I had for breakfast that day. Totally not my fault! It was all okay at first, when I thought everyone would move on and forget the whole thing. Uh-huh, until some asshole decided to immortalize it on YouTube, where it will haunt me for the years to come.

A bit surprised how my viral video didn't reach South Park, but it's definitely for the better. I can't even imagine the look on Stan's face if he ever discovers my secret. Oh god, Cartman would torment me endlessly and Kenny would find a way to turn it into an innuendo. Don't ask me how, Kenny just has that kind of talent. But, damn, I would lose all my friends in an instant!

And I would be back to being Kyle Barflovski. I hate that nickname much more than I hate Cartman, and that says a lot.

If that video got around, people would have a reason to bully me again. I have experienced enough harassment to scar me till I die — and maybe even after that! — I surely don't need more now. All I need is some fucking rest.

Speaking of rest, ugh, my head is starting to hurt. My parents are on their way to pick me up. I don't want to be awake when they arrive.

* * *

"Barflovski?"

 _Huh?_

"Kyle Barflovski."

 _Don't call me that! Wait..._

"What an ugly nickname Barflovski is. Cartman was right. You really are a nerd, Kyle."

 _...Stan, dude, is that you?_

"Don't call me that! I'm not your _dude_ anymore!"

 _W-What?_

"I'm not your damn friend."

 _Stan...?_

"You're hopeless, do you know that? Stop convincing yourself that you matter, because you don't! You wanna know what's real?"

 _No?_

"Well, it goes like this: 'Fuck you, Kyle, you're a piece of shit!'"

 _..._

" _Just wake up, Kyle!_ "

I bolt upright, feeling like someone sucked all the life out of me. Beads of cold sweat were forming at my forehead, and I have never felt so scared. My eyes adjust to my surroundings, turns out I'm in my room. That's nice. So it was just a dream then.

But why Stan?

It's around this time I notice the dip on my bed. Hey, Ike better not be sleeping next to me. Lord knows how much that little rascal tosses and turns in his sleep, it's downright annoying! He even snores way worse than our dad — hold on, no one's snoring.

 _No way._

"What are you doing here?!" Screaming, I push the poor boy off my bed.

"Hey, what'd you do that for!" Stan mutters as he stands up, eyes riddled with sleep.

"I said," I take a deep breath, "what are you doing here? In my bed, too!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's just that, uh, I heard you passed out once I left for class. You had me worried sick, dude, like my stomach got upset and stuff! Told ya I should've stayed."

 _Dude._

The word that makes my stomach do backflips — don't ask why. We've done it guys, he still calls me dude! Hell yeah!

Masking my happiness, I turn my back to him. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Look, I came over to see if you were okay and..."

"And?"

"I've been here since three o'clock."

"So?" Cut to the chase already, damn.

"It's abouuuut, uh, ten now?"

Damn indeed.

The blood rushes to my cheeks and I turn around to face him again. Raising my hands, I exclaim, "No way, Stan!"

He has this _'I told you so'_ smirk on his face as he shifts all his weight on one foot, in his hand is my digital alarm clock. "Yes way, Kyle."

He's right, it just turned 10PM. In my shock, I throw a pillow right at him and it misses completely (on purpose!). Does this mean he cares for me? God, only one way to find out:

"So... we _are_ friends?"

I can't help but laugh at Stan when his posture turns rigid, his fingers losing their grip on the pillow. He looks like a comically shocked character, like the ones I see on TV! I bet some higher power could insert a shock sound effect right about now, and _oh god_ , that would be too perfect.

"You wound me!" Stan goes on, putting both of his hands on his chest, as if I actually stabbed him in the heart. He looks horrified and I continue laughing at him, doubling over.

Stan lets my laughter die down before speaking again, "But, seriously though, we _are_ friends."

Oh, man, never knew I'd make a friend this soon, never knew it would be someone like Stan. I thought I'd be stuck with the shy kids, never interacting unless we were at school.

I swipe at my eyes that were threatening to spill happy tears. "I know, dude, just wanted to make sure." Jumping off the bed, I swing an arm around his shoulders and he stumbles a bit. "I'm guessing Mom called us down to eat?"

He blinks. "Uh, I don't know?"

"What?"

He blinks twice. "I don't know, dude."

I narrow my eyes at him, sliding away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_." My hands come between us, palms facing him. "So you're telling me that Mom, the worried parent she is, didn't call us for dinner?"

"No, I'm telling you _I don't know_."

Matching his annoyed tone, I ask, "Well, what do you mean you don't know?"

"That I kind of dozed off after sometime?" Dude, I cannot believe Stan Marsh right now. "Hey, man, I was sleepy, okay?"

Slowly, I point a finger to where my bed is. "You really were sleeping over...?"

He rubs his hands all over his face, groaning, "Kyle, why is that such a big deal? God!"

I don't know, too, but for some reason I'm bothered! Is it because it's my bed and he didn't ask for my permission? Is it because he's invading my privacy? "Because, dude, that's _gay_!" Wait, I am definitely not bothered by that!

My hands fold over my mouth, desperately wishing for the words to not reach Stan's ears. Stupid mouth of mine!

But he only laughs at me, "How is that gay?" I don't know how to react, so I laugh with him instead, albeit rather awkwardly.

"Oh yeah!" I pretend to hit myself on the forehead. "Silly Kyle!" This is so fucking humiliating. Fuck me. Why did I ever think that sleepovers were gay? Friends _probably_ do them all the time!

Sensing my discomfort, Stan gives me a worried grin. "Kyle, you are so weird."

Hah. I drop the entire act, feeling tired even though I just woke up. "Nah, I'm hungry." And, as if on cue, my stomach growls.

His eyes widen at the deep rumbling. " _Very_ hungry." Gaze back at me, he asks, "Wanna grab some dinner downstairs? It's _my_ place, after all!"

I roll my eyes at him. "Ha-ha, Stan, you're _so_ hilarious."

"That's what they all say!" He grabs my hand and pulls me out of my room, having the audacity to shush me when I tell him to pipe down.

I don't know if my parents are aware of how weird my new friend is. I don't even know if they're aware I'm weird. I don't know shit, man.

* * *

It's been a month and I would say I'm more than satisfied with South Park Elementary. The happiest I've been at school for like, years. I'm already friends with half of my classmates and Cartman doesn't rip on me that much now. Heh, not after Stan got enough of his senseless bickering last week. He actually punched the fat boy square in the face! Totally surprised the both of us when Wendy came to Cartman's rescue. I thought she was _Stan's_ girlfriend?

Because, you know, right now I'm sort of being interrogated by the girls. Led by Ms. Testaburger herself, of course.

"I'm sure you know why we called you here, Kyle," she begins. Bebe and Red were behind her, talking in their own secret girl language. I try not to eavesdrop, but I hear the words sunshine, sparkles, and gay. Hold up, gay?

Before I could even reply, Wendy goes on to say, "I'm also sure you know that Stan Marsh is, as a matter of fact, _my_ boyfriend."

"Uh, yes?" I scratch my head, not really knowing why they had to meet me at the back of the school for this crap. Everyone knows you don't fuck with Wendy Testaburger. Especially not with her relationship with Stan. Let's see, I guess even possessive wouldn't be enough to describe her. Yep. Some even say she had a teacher killed for allegedly flirting with Stan! For _flirting_ with Stan!

Peering at them, I could see Wendy whisper to Bebe and Red, who both nod. Moments pass with me standing there, doing my best not to listen in. Hellooo, I'm getting bored at an alarming rate. "Look, Wendy, why am I here? I've got a basketball game with the guys in a few—"

Their heads turn to me in unison, making me shut up as chills go down my spine. Talk about creepy! "And Stan will be going, right?" Bebe asks, a clean brow raised at me.

"Well, duh?" They do not like my response. I repeat, they do not like my response. Quick, explain! "I mean, Stan and I are always on the same team, and he rarely misses after-school Friday games. So, yeah, he'll definitely be there."

" _Always_ on the same team?" Red repeats my words. She has her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I've done something wrong. "Like, do you guys pick or is it like, rock-paper-scissors?" She follows up before I could respond to her previous question.

"We pick?" I say and it comes out more like a question.

"You're not sure?" It's Wendy who's asking. "Enlighten me, Kyle, do you pick Stan or does Stan pick you?"

The three of them are glaring daggers at me, and I pray to all the gods that I don't fucking die here. Could Stan walk in? Or Kenny? Heck, even Butters or Cartman would do! 'Cause girls can be hella scary when they want to and these girls in particular definitely are.

I gulp down the large lump on my throat, making sure my voice won't come out strained. I have to look tough right now. Fuck you, Barflovski. "Sometimes I pick him and sometimes he picks me. It works both ways."

They all gasp, hands shooting to their mouths. I would've laughed at their stricken expressions if I weren't the one cornered here! Among the three of them, Wendy looked the worst. She was moaning and stumbling, pretending to faint and land in the other girls' arms. Drama queen alert.

"Look at what you've done!" Bebe shrieks, her free hand pointing an accusing finger at me.

Throwing my hands to the air, I shriek back, "Hey, I didn't do anything!" Bebe rolls her eyes at me and Red shakes her head before the two of them drag Wendy away.

"It's okay, Wends." I could still hear Bebe as they turn around the corner. "None of us knew Stan was gay."

Wait, wait, wait, Stan is _gay_? No way, dude! Did they see how hard he smacked Cartman last Tuesday? That's what I would call a manly punch, my friends, if there ever is one. Girls are just crazy as always, making up lies and rumors for the fun of it. Stan would never swing the same side—OH SHIT.

I get it now, they think _I'm_ fucking gay! And as if the idea could be any more far-fetched, they think I'm gay _for Stan_!

Bless me, I think I'm going to be sick.

* * *

"You okay, Kyle?" Kenny asks, plopping down the bench. He throws me a water bottle and I catch it. After muttering my thanks, I chug the entire drink. The cool liquid trickles down my chin and I wipe the trail away with the back of my hand.

"I'm okay. Thanks again, Ken."

He rests a hand on my shoulder and gives me a hum of approval, though it sounded reluctant. He already knows I'm lying, huh? Maybe he could sense it through his hand right now, all the discomfort I try to hide.

So we sit there, side by side, watching the other boys play. My eyes follow Stan, who currently has the ball. He dribbles past Token and Craig, oh, it looks like he's going for three points and — he gets it!

"What are you smiling for?" Kenny snickers from beside me and I scowl at him.

"I wasn't smiling."

He shrugs and adjusts the towel on his neck, pulling it up to hide his smirk. "Whatever you say, Kyle."

I huff and look away. That smirk was definitely suggesting something! So I guess even Mr. Kenny McCormick thinks he knows everything huh? Well, he doesn't, because even _I_ don't know _anything_! Ugh. Fuck Kenny and the girls, man, they think about my friendship with Stan a bit too much. I don't like him romantically, we're friends, that's all! End of discussion... though I somehow do end up staring at him throughout the entire game. We won the match and, actually, you know what? Stan _is_ kinda cute when he smiles — but he's just my friend and I'm just his friend. I'm not gay, not at all.

Definitely.

Not.

Gay.

 _M'kay_?

Goddamn it, now I'm starting to talk like Mr. Mackey.

Kenny, you bastard.

* * *

"Hey, Kyle, you have got to see this."

My eyes shoot open at the voice. I shuffle off my bed, yawning as I make my way toward Stan. This was the usual scenario every night he slept over — him on my computer and me actually trying to sleep. He somehow managed to sway my mom to push the internet curfew past midnight. And Stan, being him, takes advantage of all that time by watching cute dog videos and also by looking at memes. But I occasionally hear him swear over an argument he and Wendy would have on Facebook. Thank goodness I don't have to deal with all that relation _shit_.

"Let me guess: _more_ dogs?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p, "it's Wendy." I frown at the name, wondering what she might turn into a fight this time. Stan scoots over to make space for me on the chair and I make myself comfortable next to him. Leaning over, I read the message:

 _Stan, I'm sorry for saying this, but I think your new friend Kyle is gay... for you. I'm really sorry! :(_

My mouth drops open. What an utter bitch.

"She's crazy!" Stan gestures to the monitor, hands bobbing in a maniacal manner.

I glare at him. "But she _is_ your girlfriend."

He sinks down the chair, burying his face in his hands. "Dude, I don't even know why we're together."

Sweet Jesus Christ doing backflips on a tightrope, Stan is hopeless. "Then why don't you leave her?"

His expression screams incredulous, like I just told him to jump off a cliff. "What — are you serious?"

"Dead serious." I'm not kidding, I honestly think Stan and Wendy don't deserve each other. Besides, they're too young to be dating. At this age, we should be worrying about good manners and right conduct! But I don't complain when Stan calls my name.

"Kyle, look, I know this sounds sappy and shit, but," he pauses to look me in the eye. I gulp at his intense stare. " _I love her_ , with or without her craziness."

For some reason, his words sting and I do nothing but nod. I try to smile at him, blinking away tears that I didn't know were forming. Damn. I don't want him to see me like this. Not right now.

Still forcing a smile on my face, I croak, "Then I'm happy for you, _really_." And I walk back to my bed. "Good night, Stan." My voice almost breaks at his name, but I wave it off.

"Wait, dude, was that _too_ sappy?"

I almost laugh at his surprised tone.

No, Stan, it hurt.

* * *

 **A/N:** Yes. Hello. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit all over the place? I'll get better for all of you! OH! AND I REALLY APPRECIATE EVERYONE OMG ;~; y'all be making me _cry_. Thank you guys, I love every single one of you. I really will get better. (also uhm i chose barflovski because it sounded like broflovski and wow now i guess you all know that i dont actually have a plan for this fanfic and i'm winging it every chapter and oh god im rambling im sorry!) ((oh and do u guys think i should change the genre to hurt/comfort and change the summary since it's kinda like false advertising? lol i'm overthinking this. _again_.))

Leave a review if you'd like (constructive criticism is _highly_ appreciated!). Lots of love to I'mFromRussia and Knifeboy! *insert heart here uwu*


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